


False God

by speedgriffon



Series: My Hovercraft is Full of Eeels | Agent Charmer [8]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Deacon Is Good At Things, Established Relationship, F/M, False God is About Oral Sex Fight Me, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Indulgent, Sexual Content, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22687891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedgriffon/pseuds/speedgriffon
Summary: Deacon tries to make the best of a lover’s quarrel in one of the ways he knows best. With his mouth.Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all.
Relationships: Deacon/Female Sole Survivor, Deacon/Sole Survivor (Fallout)
Series: My Hovercraft is Full of Eeels | Agent Charmer [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591429
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54





	False God

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing a t-swift song inspired ficlet challenge of my own design for the month of February for a variety of my OCs/pairings. Enjoy! :)

Diamond City. There was a certain kind of stillness to the town at night that rubbed Deacon the wrong way, almost like there was a false sense of security in the too-quiet community. Though, it hardly mattered what he thought. He was only there because Charmer was there, and where she went, he followed. Like a faithful devotee, or perhaps more like an obedient _dog_ —not to compare himself to Dogmeat, but that woman definitely had him wrapped around her little finger without him realizing it. Not that he minded in the slightest—it was good after such a long time to have a strong emotional bond—to have someone he cared about. Somebody he _loved_.

Well…maybe he’d feel better if they weren’t in the middle of a lover’s quarrel.

When Deacon thought about the argument itself, it all sounded so foolish, on both their parts. Charmer— _Madelyn_ —she could be so stubborn when she wanted to. Not that his own obstinacy didn’t get the way now and then. He didn’t even remember what they had been fighting about—okay that was a _lie_ —he knew perfectly well what it was about, or at least where it started.

Charmer had been fiddling with her Pip-Boy when she tuned into Freedom Radio, the Minutemen’s frequency for classical music and alerts for their ragtag group of militiamen. It was also how they transmitted messages to their _General_. Deacon had come to terms with her shared roles in the Commonwealth—for the most part—but somewhere deep down it still bothered him, especially when they were in the middle of a Railroad op.

So, he had teased her—perhaps a little too harshly. “So we’re going back to the Castle for what? So you can help save everybody’s life again? You going to help wipe their asses too?”

She didn’t take it very well, and snide remarks quickly dissolved into a full-blown spat as if he had dug into some kind of lingering tension. Maybe it was needed, but it was still confusing to him why it had blown so out of proportion. And because the two of them were such great _communicators_ , it almost seemed it would never end—that is, until Charmer threw her arms in the air and declared, “all you’re ever good for is talking and lying!” before storming off.

Deacon spent the next few hours pouting at the bar, but hey, she wasn’t wrong. Though, there were plenty of other things he was good for—many of which involved his mouth. He knew Charmer well enough to know that some time alone would do her (and him) some good, but now his mind was racing with ways he could resolve the situation, most of them involving the two not wearing any clothes. But how to get from point A to point B? He could only face it all with a sly grin—after all, he’d been in worse predicaments.

Home Plate was deserted, but he could hear the distant echoes of the radio from the rooftop and knew she was hiding out, trying to remain undetected. _Sneaky, sneaky._ Deacon had to compliment Charmer’s brooding skills—she was just as good at sulking as she was at talking the caps off of any raider. Or seducing the pants off of any Railroad agent, namely _him_. If he wasn’t careful, the tables could be swiftly turned against him.

He found her just where he expected to, leaned back in the lone lawn chair overlooking the lights of the city with a pensive expression, but she had definitely noticed his presence. Almost immediately she tensed, but the more he observed her, the more he realized she was _nervous_ , not annoyed. Good—he was in the advantage here.

“ _Oh_ ,” he remarked, laying it on thick. “I didn’t see you there.”

Charmer rolled her head, regarding him with a sarcastic stare. “Deacon. Don’t—”

“Hmm? Don’t what?”

“Whatever you came up here for,” she sighed, frowning. “To goad me on about the Minutemen, or—”

“I was thinking we could talk about aesthetics and epistemology,” he countered.

Charmer rolled her eyes. “I think I’d rather argue.”

“Have you always been this impossible?” he softly laughed.

She held the briefest of sideways smiles as she regarded him. “Yes.”

“I think you owe me an apology,” he showed an overdramatic frown, though he really was being honest. A glimmer of _something_ washed through her as she furrowed her brows, but she remained silent—he was getting under her skin. He sat down on the ground near her feet, turning his body so he could look up at her. “You don’t _really_ think any of that from earlier, right? All I’m good for?”

He nudged at her leg with his hand, the back of his knuckles grazing from her ankle up the front of her shin. It was a methodical movement, something he had been planning on doing since she had stormed away from him earlier that day. Well, maybe he had been planning on doing it _much_ earlier, but the loud words kind of got in the way. The idea had come back to him right after his second stale beer of the evening when he knew they needed to reconcile. Lately it had always been so rushed for no good reason—for once he wanted to take things slow and now was as good as a time as ever, right?

“N—no,” she flinched the slightest bit away, glancing down at him, silently questioning his movements. He hadn’t seen that kind of trepidation in her in a _long_ time, probably since they first started this whirlwind affair. It was thrilling but gave him pause until she spoke. “Of course not, Deacon. I was just—”

She paused when he tickled his fingers at her knee, curling around so they could press up, teasing beyond the hem of her blue cotton dress. “Just what?” he pressed, teasing the pads of his fingers—rough calluses from years of handing that sniper rifle—brushing along the soft expanse of her upper thigh. “Charmer?”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, shivering at his touch. Deacon tried not to overreact, though he did skew his mouth to the side in a smirk. His fingers shifted upwards ever so slightly, other hand reaching out to grasp her right ankle. “What’re you doing?”

“I was thinking I could show you some _other_ things I’m good for,” he mumbled, leaning over to press his mouth against her knee, gazing up at her over his shades.

“ _Oh_ ,” she breathed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Like what, exactly?”

He grinned against her skin, scooting closer for greater purchase. “Don’t play coy, sweetheart.” 

“I would never—” her voice cut out as his hand slid further along her thigh until his fingers were brushing along the front of her underwear, thumb deftly hooking into the hem to slide beneath for the slightest of touches. Charmer gasped, head titling back. “Dee—”

He wasn’t sure if he was proud or disappointed in not hearing her sigh his name completely, but they had only just gotten started—there was still plenty of opportunities. If he had his way she’d be saying his name like a prayer. Better yet, shouting it from the rooftop like a filthy Sunday sermon.

“You can do better than that,” he teased, leaning down to kiss up from her right ankle along her shin to the top of her knee, all the while keeping his hand busy beneath her skirt. He slid his thumb past the satin hem once more and— _there_ —as he pressed against her clit she let out a glorious sounding moan.

“ _Deacon_!”

He refrained from saying something awfully corny like— _that’s my name, baby—_ afraid she’d push him away, or off the roof completely. Instead, he continued his trail of kisses, lifting the soft cotton fabric of her dress upwards so he could seek out more of her impossibly perfect skin. Charmer slid down in the chair, shifting closer to him in the process and Deacon took the opportunity to tuck her dress up around her hips before snatching at the band of her underwear so he could slide them down her legs.

He could sense the excitement bubbling just beneath her skin he grasped onto her with both hands, slowly sliding his hands up as he spread her knees apart and adjusted to makes space for his own body. Charmer sighed, all the while her bright blue eyes focused on his every measured move, but he knew if he didn’t start touching her again soon she was going to burst—or beg. Deacon filed that fantasy away for a later date.

For now, he concentrated on kissing the skin of her inner thighs, leaving little love-nips along the way just so he could hear her surprised gasps and feel her hand grasp at his arm in alarm. Eventually he hooked one knee around his shoulder, nuzzling along as his hand found itself back to that sensitive nub, a few fingers dipping down to feel at her wetness. He bit back his own groan as he teased her opening, hooking two fingers slowly in a steady pace.

Charmer dug her heel into his back, her leg pressing against his cheek knocking his sunglasses off the bridge of his nose. He took a moment to swipe them off his face completely, blindly reaching up to tuck them into one of her free hands where he knew they were safe. Where she hid them for the time being he couldn’t say, but he knew he’d get them back eventually. Free of distractions, he took one clear look at her beautiful, _blissful_ expression before advancing, replacing his hand with his mouth.

And oh—the sweet sounds Charmer— _Madelyn_ — (he really needed to start calling her that more often, or some kind of beloved nickname) could make. Better than whatever song was playing on the nearby radio, and definitely better than the silence he _thought_ he had grown accustomed to. He traced along the heat of her with all the expert knowledge one could have, a firm grasp on her hips as she writhed beneath his craft.

Her hand flittered against his head, nails scratching against the scruff of patchy hair that was starting to grow in—he was due for a shave—or maybe he should grow out his hair? See what Charmer thought of it, see what it really felt like when she could really get a good grasp on it. Spurn on by the idea he increased his ministrations, tongue wiggling madly against her folds as her moans echoed out louder around them.

“ _Don’t_ —” she seized up and he clutched her tighter, snapping his hand back so he could feel at her warmth, fingers dipping in and out in a wild pace as he sucked at her clit, anticipating what he already knew. “God, Deacon— _don’t stop_.”

Now that was a plea he wasn’t going to ignore. He didn’t let up, gripping her as she spasmed, wave after heavenly wave of ecstasy crashing over her. Deacon didn’t dare to move away until her body relaxed, arms and legs limp from around his head and torso as she fell back into the chair, lazily pushing her dress back into place for decencies sake. He looked up at her and savored the elation etched into her expression, tucking it away in his brain as a win for his pride and overall manhood.

Speaking of _manhood_.

Moving to lean over her, he could only flash a breathless smirk. “What’s the verdict, sweetheart?”

“Shut _up_ ,” she breathed a laugh, reaching out to gather him up in her arms if only to tuck him close beside her. Deacon nearly toppled right over her, bracing most of his weight on one arm as he laughed into the crook of her shoulder, breathless. He groaned when she took advantage of the position to kiss at the side of his face, focusing on one particular spot below his ear.

“As much as I’d like for you to fuck me on this roof,” she sighed, and Deacon nearly croaked that moment between her feather-light kisses and lingering caresses down the length of his body, one hand lingering at the front of his jeans. When did she develop such a filthy mouth? She was holding back on him! “Let’s go downstairs so the whole neighborhood doesn’t hear us.”

“I think it’s a little late for that, Charmer,” he chuckled. “Or should I call you _Screamer_?” he teased, scraping his teeth across the sensitive skin of her neck before soothing it over with a kiss as she shrieked a laugh. “You _were_ saying _‘oh God_ ’ an awful lot too. Maybe I should start calling you _Preacher_!”

She smacked his side, daring to topple him off the already unstable patio chair. “Deacon, I swear to—”

He perked up a brow, turning his face ever so slightly so he could catch her gaze. “You swear to…?”

“God. _Jesus_. And every other deity too while we’re at it!” she spoke wildly, shaking her head with the brightest of grins. “You’re insufferable,” she followed, holding him closer. “But I love you.”

“Glad you saw the light, my disciple,” he joked before tilting his chin down to capture her lips in a softer, more passionate kiss. As compelling as it was to relax his body against hers and get lost together on that rooftop as she implied, he had other ideas in mind. “Let’s get you downstairs so I can take my time with you.”

“Will I still be able to walk by morning?” she mused.

Deacon was about to lose his patience in all the best ways—that’s what crazed love was all about, right?. He laughed. “I doubt it.”

In that moment, he noticed, or realized, she had placed his sunglasses across her temple for safekeeping—all the deities were _right_ —he loved this woman. For good measure because he hadn’t said it that evening in the hubbub of their argument, he added, “Love you.”

Charmer’s expression lit up like the first time he had said it. She wiggled her nose against his, a silent and all-telling gesture that spoke volumes—she was truly sorry for whatever fight had transpired and was forgiving him at the same time. That was what was important to Deacon as he gathered her up in his arms to carry her down into her Diamond City apartment—that regardless of their troubles, they always found a way back to each other—theirs was a love worth fighting for.

**Author's Note:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


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